


"your hands are cold"

by lionofsounis



Category: Miraculous Ladybug
Genre: Aged-Up Character(s), F/M, Fluff, Married Couple, im so weak for this fluffy bullshit someone stop me
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-02-10
Updated: 2017-02-10
Packaged: 2018-09-23 09:40:42
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,401
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9650072
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lionofsounis/pseuds/lionofsounis
Summary: Aged up/married AdrinetteMarinette locks herself outside in the cold. In her pyjamas. Again.





	

**Author's Note:**

> im also pride and prejudice trash jic u were wondering
> 
> ~~this is literally nothing like the p &p scene that inspired it i have nothing to say for myself~~
> 
> pt 2 of strays will happen eventually but in the meantime this exists

7:30 am.

 

That was the time Adrien thought his phone was telling him when the doorbell rang on a sleepy winter Sunday.

 

He thought that was what the time said, but it had to be wrong. It had to be wrong because he and Marinette were still in winter break mode, and, what's more, it was the weekend. They'd been looking forward to sleeping in, and no one with a soul would take that away from them.

 

“Why,” Adrien grumbled into his pillow, tossing his phone back on the bedside table.

 

Marinette groaned loudly.

 

“I can get it if you want,” Adrien said, making no effort to move.

 

“No, I'll do it.” Marinette didn't move either.

 

There was a pause.

 

“Do you think they'll go aw--”

 

The doorbell dinged again, cutting Adrien off as it echoed through the house.

 

“Ugh,  _ who  _ on  _ earth --”  _ Marinette rolled out of bed and padded off to the stairs, pulling on a sweater as she went. Adrien could hear her muttering the whole way. He could only faintly hear the door open downstairs and closed his eyes when it got quiet again, hovering somewhere in between sleeping and awake, while Marinette dealt with whoever was there.

 

* * *

 

Marinette, meanwhile, had opened the door timidly, trying to keep the warm in and the cold out.

 

But she found their next door neighbour -- a notoriously talkative and worrisome older woman -- on the other side, asking if Marinette had heard any strange noises in the night (she had: it was Ladybug and Chat Noir coming home  _ slightly  _ giddy from a  _ particularly  _ flirty patrol, but naturally she couldn't say much about that).

 

She crossed her arms against the chill. “Uh, we might have been a little loud coming in, I'm sorry if we -- ”

 

“Oh, no, dear, I mean, it sounded like an animal. Like a wild dog. Or a raccoon.”

 

Marinette hoped that wasn't what she and Adrien sounded like when they got home.

 

“Well, I'm not sure, I mean, we got home pretty late…”

 

“And just look what it did to my garden!”

 

Marinette groaned inwardly. She reluctantly stepped forward, out of the house, to look over the railing into Mrs Alain’s flower bed. She wondered absently who was so concerned about their garden in the dead of winter, but she supposed she had things she was weird about too.

 

“Oh gosh, Mrs Alain,” she said, seeing the hole in the snow and the dug-up dirt scattered across the sidewalk. “That's really too bad. I wish I knew what it was.”

 

Mrs Alain sighed deeply. “That's all right, dear. Sorry for waking you.”

 

“Oh no, don't worry about it. We were --” she faltered, “uh, just about to get up anyway.”

 

“Well, then I’ll let you get to your breakfast.” Mrs Alain was retreating down the steps. “Say hello to that handsome husband of yours for me,” she said, with a twinkle in her eye, and Marinette felt her face flush. “Say, how would you young folks feel about some homemade jam?”

 

“Homemade jam?” Marinette rubbed her face. It was too early for any part of this conversation.

 

“Yes, I made a batch of strawberry in the summer but I've got far too much for just me. I'll come by with some later.”

 

“Oh, wow! Thank you, Mrs Alain, that's so nice.”

 

“No problem at all, dear. See you later!”

 

Marinette stayed to make sure her elderly neighbour made it back inside without slipping. When Mrs Alain was safely gone, she sighed. Their neighbour was a nice lady, but tended to knock on their door for any little reason, be it a strange noise or flowers from her garden or even just to chat. And as nice as she was, nothing she had to say needed to be said at seven thirty in the morning. Marinette turned to go back inside. She'd only been out for a minute or two, but she was regretting not wearing more than Adrien’s t-shirt and boxers to bed last night. She was thankful at least for her sweater and her slippers. She pulled on the doorknob and --

 

Her eyes went wide.

 

The door jerked and rattled but stayed shut.

 

She tried the door again.

 

Nothing. It was definitely locked.

 

She groaned loudly.

 

“Why me?” she asked out loud. She reached into the mailbox, knowing full well that she had used the spare key the other day and forgotten to replace it. She groaned again when she couldn't find it.

 

She scurried down the steps, around the side of the house. She cast around for something to throw.

 

There was nothing.

 

Nothing.

 

Then she had an idea. Shivering, she stooped down and grabbed a handful of snow.

 

* * *

 

It only faintly occurred to Adrien that Marinette was taking a little long at the door. Being too sleepy to really connect the thought to any sort of action, he kept his eyes closed. He was just drifting back to sleep when he heard something. A sort of thump, like something had struck the side of the house. He listened a moment, then snuggled back into his pillow.

 

Then he heard it again.

 

It sounded close. Like something was hitting the window.

 

There it was once more.

 

His eyes suddenly flew open.

 

He all but tripped out of bed getting to the window. He opened it and poked his head out. He was frowning in confusion, but his face split into a wide grin when he looked down.

 

Marinette stood two storeys down, on the snowy sidewalk in her slippers, doing a sort of dance to keep warm.

 

“Oh hey there, Princess,” he called down in a leisurely tone, not even trying to hide his smile. “Whatcha doin’?”

 

“Open the door!”

 

“Did you lock yourself out again?”

 

“Adrien!!”

 

He laughed at her for another moment, taking his time. “I  _ cannot _ wait to tell Alya you did it again,” he said, leaning his elbow on the window frame and looking at her fondly.

 

“Adrien Agreste, I swear if you don't --”

 

“I’ll be there in a sec.” He disappeared and Marinette breathed a sigh of relief until he reappeared with his phone.

 

“What are you doing!?”

 

“Taking a picture.”

 

“Just let me in!”

 

“But I need keep this memory forever. In photograph form. I'll look at it whenever I'm sad, and then I won't be sad anymore.” He snapped the picture.

 

Marinette threw a snowball at his face.

 

He had good reflexes, but she had better aim. The snowball grazed the side of his head as he dodged out of her sight. Marinette heard him yelp, and despite her annoyance, listened with satisfaction to his complaints as he closed the window.

 

She was rushing up the steps when he opened it and leaned nonchalantly in the doorway. “Well, look what the cat dragg-- whoa!”

 

She flew past him, ducking under his arm. He could hear her muttering of “coldcoldcoldcoldcoldcoldcold” as she shot by him and up the stairs.

 

Another neighbour from down the street was walking by and saw their reunion.

 

“Morning,” he said to Adrien, “she get locked out again?”

 

“Yep!” Adrien answered cheerfully. “Also, she might kill me when she warms up.”

 

The neighbour shook his head with a faint smile and continued on his way.

 

Adrien followed Marinette upstairs, still chuckling to himself. He found her back in bed, burrowing into their comforter, wrapping it around herself like she was a human burrito.

 

“Little cold, Bugaboo?”

 

“I hate you,” she said immediately, her voice muffled by the blanket.

 

He looked at her with amusement; her messy bun, poking out from the puffy comforter, and her eyes, glaring at him, were about all he could see of her.

 

“Sorry, my Lady, but I just can’t take you seriously when you look that cute.”

 

She grumbled something which he thought sounded like ‘could kick your ass’, but he decided not to think too hard about it. He laughed again, then disappeared to the hall closet. Marinette was suspicious, but not enough to leave her blanket cocoon.

 

When Adrien reappeared, he had a stack of extra blankets in his hands. He laid one out gently on top of her, and then another, tucking it in around her to make extra layers of burrito.

 

Marinette caved, and wiggled her head out of the blankets a little ways. “What are you up to, Kitty?”

 

“Warming you up, of course.” He tucked another blanket around her. And then another.

 

“Adrien, stop it, I can hardly move my arms.”

 

Adrien said nothing, but added another blanket.

 

“Adrien! Don't you think six blankets is a little excessive?”

 

“Oh!” he said in mock surprise. “Okay, no more blankets.” And he flopped on top of her.

 

“Adrien!” she complained, laughing.

 

“I'm a cat,” he said, by way of explanation.

 

“You're a nuisance.”

 

“Same thing.”

 

It was a struggle, but she managed to pull one arm out of the cocoon. She tried to shove him over, but, very much like a cat, he refused to move, and only watched her with a lazy smile.

 

“When did you get so heavy, anyway?” She grumped. “I used to throw you off roofs when we were teenagers.”

 

“Superpowers don’t count, but either way, I’m going to blame that one on puberty.”

 

“I could transform, you know, I’ve got my earrings on.”

 

“You  _ could _ . But so could I. And then Plagg would see us and we’d have to listen to him complain for the rest of the day because he saw us being cute.”

 

“We are not being cute.”

 

“I mean, at least one of us is being cute.”

 

“I know you’re goading me into asking which one, but honestly, I don’t know which answer would annoy me more. So I’m just going to --” Marinette tried again to push him off, to no avail. “This would be easier if I had both arms available,” she said darkly. He felt her trapped arm twitch against his ribs, under the mountain of blankets.

 

“Whatever you say, Princess.”

 

“Oh shut up already, you win.”

 

“Win what?”

 

“Win what? This weird competition you’ve made out of my suffering!”

 

“Yeah, obviously. I mean, what’s my prize?” He leaned on his elbow, looking at her with a dreamy smile.

 

“I won’t throw you off the roof later.”

 

He pouted. “Are you warmer?”

 

“What?”

 

“Are you warmer?”

 

“...Yes,” she replied hesitantly, her eyes narrowing. Adrien’s face looked placid, but she was suspicious.

 

He sighed happily and leaned into his elbows, which were positioned on either side of her head so he could beam down at her. “See? I got you all warm and everything,” he said. Marinette thought he was a little  _ too _ pleased with himself.  _ “I _ think that deserves kisses,” he continued, looking at her expectantly.

 

“I dunno, I think not getting thrown off the roof is a pretty good prize,” Marinette said wryly, but he started pouting again.

 

“Oh brother,” she muttered. “Fine.”

 

His face lit up. He grinned at her for another moment and she rolled her eyes.

 

“Either kiss me or get off m--” she began, but she was cut off by his lips on hers.

 

It was all the things a sleepy, morning kiss should be: soft and chaste and lingering -- almost lazy: like they had all the time in the world. It was all the things Marinette had always expected a kiss from Adrien Agreste to be: dreamy and gentle and  _ perfect  _ and she was continually amazed at how -- even after he’d kissed her hundreds, no, thousands, of times -- it never ceased to completely short-circuit her brain.

 

But most of all, today, it was  _ warm _ .

 

It concerned her sometimes, how cat-like Adrien could be: the way he’d knock things over just to see them fall, or how he’d plop into her lap at the most inconvenient of times, or how he seemed to radiate warmth like a space heater on full blast…

 

(It was awesome in winter. Not so much in summer).

 

But today, this morning, after locking herself outside in  _ shorts _ , with the entire experience being prolonged while her ridiculous husband laughed at her… the warmth was nice. Really nice. Heavenly, almost.

 

They parted, and he kissed her again. And again. And again, and again and again. He peppered kisses across her face while she laughed, each one warming her right down to her toes.

 

“All right, all right,” she said, dodging his lips so that they landed on her earlobe. “That’s enough, now get me out of here.”

 

“But this is so fun,” he complained.

 

“For you,” she replied with a snort.

 

“Oh, you’re having fun.”

 

“I am not.”

 

He smirked, cocking an eyebrow down at her. He looked at her for a moment, as if considering, and then kissed her again. It was longer this time, more like the first kiss, rather than the silly, repetitive kisses of the moment before. Marinette was losing herself again, the way she always did, like her mind was melting into one big slush of  _ Adrien _ and kissing and contentedness.

 

But she still wanted a little revenge for being left in the cold.

 

Her free arm had been resting by her side through most of this, and as Adrien kissed her slowly, she found it moving almost unconsciously to his shoulder, and then down his back. The feel of his shirt against her cold skin was what gave her the idea.

 

Her hand paused just above the hem of his shirt. She waited.

 

For as long as she could.

 

And then, with a smile, she slid it up, under the fabric to the small of his back, pressing her icy cold skin into his space-heater warm skin.

 

Adrien broke the kiss off with a yelp and fell sideways off the bed, finally allowing her a little room to move.

 

She listened with no little satisfaction to the petulant wail that came from the floor beside her.

 

“Your hands are  _ so  _ cold!”

 

Marinette smiled at the ceiling and waited. When Adrien got back up, he must have thought better of his positioning, because he crawled in to snuggle up behind her, wrapping his arms around her waist.

 

“Better?” he asked, still sounding a little pouty.

 

“Yes. Infinitely better than you crushing me to death.”

 

He snorted at that.

 

“Keep that ice hand away from me and we’ll call it even.”

 

“Deal,” she said.

 

He kissed her once more before they both drifted back to sleep.


End file.
